As we were going through the doorway, the chief said carelessly, "By the way, how did you happen to find this house?"
"I have been here before," Douglas replied.
"Thank you. I was only curious."
I could feel the spies' eyes on my back as we went down the path.
"Mrs. Pierce—Mrs. Pierce, you must not lose your temper that way."
"I don't care!" I cried. "I had no way to express what I felt."
"I know," Douglas agreed thoughtfully.
We hailed a droshky and got in.
"I have a friend—a Pole," said Douglas. "For no reason except that he was a Pole, they made a revision at his house, and among other things took away every calling card they found. They made a revision then on each one of those people whose names they found. Though they found nothing incriminating in his possession, they make him report every day at the police headquarters. A year ago he was a giant in strength. Now he is a sick man. The uselessness of it. Nothing was found against him, and yet he is followed and watched. What are they driving at? They are wearing him to the bone with their persecution." He shrugged his shoulders and laughed suddenly. "Come, Mrs. Pierce, you can do nothing against them. But let me tell you what I will give you. It is a German helmet that a friend of mine brought from the Riga front. You can put it in your room and blow beans at it!"
October.